Satisfaction
by Dirk Digglit
Summary: Waking up in the body of a depressed, socially-annihilated teenager may not be comfortable, but armed with meta knowledge and what should be the ultimate superpower it should be easy, right? My personal take on a (Male)Taylor self-insert, using the v.1 Worm CYOA. Being Taylor is Suffering, of course. Power copier. NSFW
1. Chapter 1 - Emma

Emma checked her messages for the fifth time in half as many minutes, swiping the app away after a glance confirmed that _no_ , she had no new messages. Letting out a small sigh, she went back to checking her feed on Facebook, her eyes flicking to both the time displayed on her smartphone and the wall-clock in the empty classroom she was waiting in.

Technically she shouldn't be in here, but as if this schools shitty rules phased her one bit. They couldn't even afford paint to cover up the gang tags on the display board by the road every week, so it wasn't like they would pay anyone to check if all the classrooms were empty. Plus, it was only like twenty minutes - she checked again to be sure - since the final bell so she could just say she was waiting for a friend or had forgotten something or whatever. I mean really, she was waiting for a 'friend,' so it wouldn't even be a lie.

She smirked at that thought, then frowned in annoyance. Where _were_ they, damnit! They were supposed to ambush Taylor in the gym locker room and bring him here after the halls were clear. If some stupid teacher had caught them in the halls she was going to be _so_ pissed!

Suddenly her ears picked up the sound of footsteps in the hall. Finally! For a moment she moved to put her phone in her purse, but then thought better of it. If it was a teacher she wouldn't look too suspicious on her phone, and if it was Brendan and his flunkies with Taylor - and it had damn well better be! - she could look cool and nonchalant for a moment before they got to business.

So she waited a few seconds, one of her friends' stupid paragraph-long postings about what her boyfriend and said to her on her screen as the footsteps drew closer.

' _Wait_ ,' she thought after a moment, ' _is that just one person_.'

Shit, maybe it was a teacher.

It wasn't.

The door opened inward in an instant and the tall, familiar form of Taylor Hebert stepped inside with it. Emma started to rise out of her desk, a cruel smile plastered on her face as she took the sight of him in. Long, lean face - like a horses, really - and short, dark curly hair piled on top of his head. His too-wide mouth, and those stupid full lips just a few shades lighter than the flush of his cheeks. His eyes were sharp and alert, a green so dark that you could almost confuse them for brown at a distance. His clothes were shit; dark brown hoodie, cheap looking jeans and worn sneakers. The very definition of low class. She only started to remember that he should still be in gym clothes when she was already half-way out of her seat.

Taylor spared her a glance - a glare, really - before sweeping his eyes over the rest of the room. It dawned on her that something was wrong when he turned around briskly and closed the door, his bare hand darting down to flip the lock with a heavy metallic ' _thunk_.'

His hand was bloody.

Emma froze, one hand on the desk and the other still clutching her phone. Her heart skipped a beat, and she forgot how to breath as he slowly turned from the door to face her and looked her in the eyes. She stumbled back when he made his first step forward, but stopped herself on the second.

"What are you doing here, Taylor?" She only just remembered to sneer when she said his name.

Her show of confidence was enough to give him pause, and he stopped a few feet from her, bringing his bloody hand up to his mouth and giving one of his knuckles a suck. The sound was wet, and in the quiet of the classroom as loud as a car horn. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest and her cheeks flare up as he fixed her with his eyes and answered.

"You really shouldn't have tried this shit, Emma. I mean, Brendan Derny? Him and his friends are weak shit. The old Emma would have tried to do it herself, or was Sophia not available to be you're muscle?"

Okay, now her cheeks were on fire. Fuck, he was right, too. Sophia had some stupid Wards thing she had to be at on Fridays, so she'd had to promise Brendan to set him up with Melissa. Him and his two friends should have been enough to handle Taylor. Shit, Sophia had been right, something had changed.

She'd thought it had been an act. The fights, the yelling. Sure, Taylor had some stupid fucking growth-spurt after the locker, so what? The dork had always been tall, ever since they were kids. Sophia had tried to warn her, said he'd been working out, doing better in gym class, and that the half-dozen fights he'd gotten into since he came back had made the usual boys she used wary. Shit, he'd knocked Carl Merendo out for half a minute last week, why had she been so stupid!?

Taylor took a half step forward, his eyes fixed on hers intently. She needed to regain control of this situation _now_ , predators didn't back down!

"Don't come any closer." She demanded, brandishing her phone like a talisman

Taylors' cheek pinched, almost like he was smirking. "Or what, Emma?" He asked. "You gonna call for someone else to beat me up?"

"I'll call the cops." She declared with inspiration, new confidence flooding her and steadying her voice. "What do you think they'd make of a boy cornering a girl in an empty classroo-"

She finished her sentence with a yelp as Taylor darted forward, his non-bloody hand clenching around her hand like a vice.

She reacted on instinct, foot stomping down on his instep, her other hand balling into a fist and striking for his ribs, her hips twisting to gain leverage as she prepared to break his hold on her arm.

Only, her foot missed as he slid his back a few inches, his torso twisted so that her fist found only air and his other hand darted out and grasped the wrist of her striking hand. She didn't give up though; she'd been training with Shadow Stalker for over a year now, as well as a few self-defense courses from the trainers she'd convinced her daddy to pay for. She twisted, bucked, pivoted. Her feet struck out at his shins as he lifter her up, her arms writhed as he forced them both behind into the small of her back, phone clattering on the floor.

She didn't scream. Not for help, not for him to stop, and not in pain. She was better than that, she was strong. She was strong! And she wasn't going to just give up.

It took nearly a minute of wrestling, but eventually he had her back pressed up against the wall, feet dangling in the air, his arms wrapped around her in a bear hug as he held hers behind her. She was gasping, heaving in great gouts of air as he pressed her into the wall with his body. He was panting, though his breathing was controlled, steady. She hated him for that. She hated him for everything! How fucking dare he!

She growled out something, she wasn't sure. A curse? Taylor just sneered, his face a scant few inches from her own. She tried to headbutt him, but he leaned his head back almost as soon as she moved. She tried twice more before giving up, gasping even harder.

"I'm done with your shit Emma, do you understand me?" He asked, his deep voice shaking every inch of her. Suddenly, she was very aware of his body, pressed up against her. She could feel it through both their clothes; the hard muscle she'd heard about. His biceps felt like rocks pressed against her short ribs and his hands like coils of steel as they clamped down on her wrists. He stared at her from three inches away, his green eyes wide and alive, pupils dilated. She couldn't look away from them.

She could almost feel tears beading in her eyes, the needle-like pressure behind them threatening to burst out. No! She wasn't weak goddamnit! And where did this shit come from, this strength? Where had it been last year, or the year before that? It wasn't fair, he was weak, he'd always been weak and he would always _be_ weak and-

"Emma!" He growled, his voice was so deep now, she could feel it rumbling up his chest like a rockslide as his warm breath added to the heat of her face. She could feel sweat beading on her forehead and where he his arms were pressed up against her.

"Do. You. Understand?" He asked. Only it wasn't a question. She'd heard that tone of voice before, many times. Out of her own mouth, out of Sophia's, sometimes out of Daddy's when he was on the phone.

No, not a question, not really. He was _telling_ her to understand. That this was it, after this it was over. She'd had her fun, tormenting him. But that was when he had been weak. Before. Not now.

Now he was strong. Strong enough to fight three boys and win. Strong enough to fight _her_ and win.

Her mouth trembled with an answer she didn't dare speak. Yes? How could it be yes, after all this time. After everything she'd been through, after everything she'd put him through.

She couldn't look away from his eyes, and he was watching her, waiting. A second passed, then two. And she could see him lose his patience in those green eyes of his.

His head darted forward, quick but smooth. Controlled. His lips mashed against hers, the breath she'd been pulling in stilled in an instant as he kissed her. Her eyes flew wide open. For a moment she was confused, the change so sudden that her mind struggled to catch up. His lips moved against hers slowly, forcefully, and somehow she responded. Her eye's fluttered, then shut, she sucked air in through her nose as the force of Taylor's head forced hers to tilt.

Yes.

For a few moments the only thing she could process was the frantic beating of her heart, and _him_. All of him. His body pressed against hers, and his arms holding her against him. His lips, moving against hers with bruising force, insistent, forceful.

Yes.

He pulled away from the kiss just as quickly as he'd initiated it. She looked up at him with wonder, the briefest sparks of awareness and anger starting to boil up from her breast.

"Tonight..." He growled out, instantly dispelling anything she'd been thinking of. She waited thoughtlessly for the half-second it took him to keep speaking.

"You are going to come over to my house." The words hardly processed, her mind was so confused.

She nodded. Yes.

"We are going to _talk_."

She couldn't think of a reason to say no, her mind still playing catchup to everything. So she nodded again, drool leaking momentarily from the corner of her mouth before she thought to lick it up.

He stared down at her for another moment, then she felt his hands release their vice-grip on her wrists. He stepped back in an instant, and she stumbled as she caught herself. She was still breathing heavily, rubbing her wrists absentmindedly, watching him. He just kept staring at her for a moment, before nodding and speaking again.

"Seven O'clock. Don't be late."

With that he turned and walked to the door, undoing the lock and swinging it open in a instant.

And then he was gone.

Emma didn't know how long she stood there, rubbing her wrists, catching her breath. She tried to think over everything that had just happened, everything Taylor had said and done. She didn't know what to think. She should be angry, outraged at his handling her like that, kissing her like that. And now she had to go over to his house tonight and talk to him?

"Fuck."


	2. Chapter 2 - Sophia

Sophia forced herself to not squirm in her chair for the twentieth time tonight, and at least pretend to pay attention to the stuffed suit droning on about crime statistics.

God, this shit was _boring_ , and she didn't even have her phone to keep her entertained. 'COMSEC' they said, like some tinker might be able to hack into her phone and listen in on what they were saying. Whatever, that shit would be a hundred times more interesting than listening to Agent Peterson talk for an hour.

At least he was wrapping up now, having broken down in exact percentages what the effect of last weeks patrol schedule had on criminal activity. It was all bullshit, anyway; the numbers they used only accounted for reported crimes, and that was a bullshit statistic. She knew most people didn't bother to reports crime. Not the petty ones at least, the ones that wore people down and fucked them up the worst. Not in this shithole of a town.

Sure, in the wealthy neighborhoods or the boardwalk, or hell even downtown people might call in a mugging or something like that if they saw it. But down by the docks, or over around the trainyard or in the Refugee quarter nobody reported shit. People minded their own damn business, too _afraid_ to call the cops, and damn sure too afraid to do anything about it themselves.

She missed the days she was down in that, living and fighting in the muck with nothing to back her up but the thrill of knowing that one fuckup would see her dead. No backup, no team. Just her against the world and no-one to hold her back. Not like now, with these lame-ass intelligence briefings and the endless E-training courses they threw at her. What a joke.

"Thank you Agent Peterson." That was Armsmaster, his words parsed out like a robot. He turned to tap at his computer for a moment before turning to yet another stuffed suit at the long table he and the other briefers were sitting at.

She and the rest of the wards got to sit in these crummy little desks, like she was back in school.

"Agent Groll, I believe you had the briefing on the new Cape?" Armsmaster said.

 _That_ got her attention. She'd heard a rumor about a new cape from Dennis. Little turd that he was, sometimes he knew some interesting shit, and she'd been particularly bored the last few weeks. Especially with how things in her civilian life were going.

Agent Groll cleared his throat and answered, "Yes, Sir."

The man trailed off for a moment, tapping a few keys on his own laptop, a grainy photo popping up on the screen behind him after a moment. The picture had been taken at night, and the conference room they were using for this briefing was too bright to really see what was on it. Sophia grimaced in annoyance.

"Vista," Armsmaster said, "Could you get the lights?"

The twerp turned in her seat and flicked her fingers in thin air, the lights flicking off with them. There, now she could see... whatever it was.

It wasn't much better in the dark, honestly. The picture was grainy, probably taken from some cheap flip-phone. There were a few identifiable figures, but none of them were easily distinguishable.

"Ah, just a moment." The Agent said, a few more taps and clips coming from his laptop. A red outline appeared over one of the figures in the photo, though it honestly didn't help much. Brown clothes and... a hat? She leaned forward a bit and squinted. Some kind of mask.

"Eyewitness accounts describe an adult male, six-one to six-four, roughly one hundred and eighty pounds. The subjects dress consists of a brown trenchcoat, matching-color hat with a purple horizontal stripe, and purple pants. No visible gang symbols. Subject wears a full head mask, white cloth with black splotches which appear to move in symmetrical patterns over the face."

She could see it now; the white blob on top of the brown splotch. Damn, that sounded freaky. She said so out loud, and got a response from the agent.

"Our working theory is that the mask is homemade. Possibly tinkertech, though there are mundane materials that could be used to achieve the same effect. Alternatively it could be Parian's work."

Sophia rolled her eyes. As if she cared where he _got_ the mask.

"The subject has been sighted in sectors sixteen and seventeen." The agent continued. "Sightings began six days ago, the subject was seen assaulting a suspected drug dealer on Coltrane Avenue."

Hmm. That was in the docks. Not too deep into them, but just enough to be inside ABB territory. She'd gone in there a few times; rough neighborhood.

"The subject was sighted on the twenty-eighth on Perry Street assaulting a suspected drug dealer-"

Clockblocker - Dennis - snorted somewhere to her left. "Sounds like another Shadow Stalker." He croaked in that stupid voice of his.

"Fuck you." She responded by rote, though she made sure it sounded like she meant it.

Armsmasters head snapped up from where he it had been buried in his computer. "Shadow Stalker, that's enough." He ordered.

Sophia almost felt like grumbling, but this new cape was the most interesting thing in the whole briefing so she just nodded her head in as petulant a manner as she could manage and kept her mouth shut. It worked, and Armsmasters head went back down to concentrate on whatever bullshit was on his laptop. Probably some new tinkertech toy.

The Agent seemed undeterred and carried on. "Subject displayed enhanced reflexes and hand-to-hand combat abilities, as well as some ability in traversing rooftops. Preliminary rating is Brute two, mover one."

"Does this guy have a name?" That was Rory - Triumph - their supposed leader. They were going to bump him up to full Protectorate next week, so this was his last briefing. Sophia could admit to herself that she was more than little bit jealous.

Agent Groll nodded his head and hit a few keys on the laptop. After a moment nothing new came up on the screen and Sophia wondered what the fuck he was doi-

"Bystanders report the subject identified himself as 'Rorschach.' This seems thematic given the description of the mask, but we want to make official contact with him before entering that into official documentation. No known Parahuman has gone under this alias, though we're trying to correlate his displayed powerset with INTRG. None of the local Parahuman gangs have claimed affiliation, so until we have more information policy stands on treating him like a new Cape, assumed Rogue."

Rorschach. Hmm. Almost sounded Empire, though that didn't really mean anything. That and the gangs in Brockton usually declared their affiliation to new capes, if they had any. Could be an outside contact, or a drifter looking to put down roots..

Or he could just be a new trigger like the suit said. New capes were always interesting, at least. Usually didn't last long on their own - not like her - but interesting. Hopefully this one would liven things up before he got 'recruited' or killed. She'd seen at least three other capes pop up and get ganked before the PRT had snagged her. This city ate new capes almost as fast as it made them.

Still, this was the most exciting thing to happen in her Cape life since her deployment in Canberra. And damn if she wasn't hungry for something real, something fresh. Things in her civilian life had gotten _weird_ , and she needed something to center her. Clear her head.

The rest of the briefing was more of the same. Armsmaster made some speech about the upcoming changeover in leadership, Triumph got up and gave his _own_ speech about how much he appreciated their hard work and the experience he'd gained yada-yada...

It finally ended after two damn hours, and Sophia practically rushed to the plastic bin where they kept their phones. She checked her messages and saw she had one from Emma.

\- _Hey won't be able to talk tonight, parents making me come to some dinner thing with them have to leave my phone tlk tomorrow_.

Shit. It was... six fourty-five now, and her patrol didn't start until nine. Usually she texted with Emma to pass the time on Fridays, but it looked like she'd need to find something else to pass the time. Guess she could hit the training room but-

She turned her head in time to see Vista walking out of the briefing room, arms folded and followed close behind by Clockblocker who was wearing a stupid shit-eating grin. He noticed her looking and turned his head to look at her, his smile getting just a tad bit wider.

Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3 - Danny

_'This new clutch is like a dream'_ , Danny thought as he pulled into his driveway. No more of that grinding noise or those embarrassing slips in the parking lot. Well worth the money, doubly with that deal Frank Campione had gotten him with his cousins shop.

He put the truck in park and reached over to grab his briefcase and the bag of groceries he'd stopped to pick up. Just milk, actually. Taylor was drinking more of the stuff lately, eating more to. Danny didn't mind though, seeing as it was going to a good cause.

He'd always been a bit worried about his son. Annette had wanted a daughter badly, but they'd known they couldn't afford another kid after Taylor, not with both of them working to make ends meat. So she'd settled for a son, and Danny didn't feel bad about it because she'd loved Taylor as much as any other mother he'd known. But she'd always wanted a daughter, and as much as he'd loved Annette - still did, actually - she'd run with Lustrum back in college for a _reason_.

In short, she'd coddled the boy. He hadn't really noticed at the time - he'd been so concentrated on work back then - and in any case he'd been averse to stricter forms of parenting due to his own upbringing. It had only really been after Annette had died that he'd realized something was... _off_. Well, not off, just different.

Granted he sure as hell hadn't taken his wife's death well, not at all. And Taylor had been what, thirteen? Still young. But ever since then Danny had always noticed that his son was a little... weaker, than he'd hoped for. He'd cry, sometimes for hours. He didn't make friends at school, hell his only real friend was Emma Barnes, which had been fine - cute, even - when they were kids but after puberty was just...

Ughh, he shouldn't be thinking like that. Taylor was his son, he'd always loved him, no matter what. But Taylor had changed since the Locker thing. And Danny couldn't hide from himself that he liked that change.

It was just... hard to admit to himself that he hadn't really respected his son before.

It didn't matter, things had changed now. Taylor was working out, making friends - male friends! They even had him on the track team now. The uniform had been stupidly expensive, but he'd have paid double he had been so proud.

He practically skipped over the rotten board on the front porch, a smile on his lips as he shook his keychain loose and unlocked the door. The warm air hit him like a pillow, and hurried to shut the door behind him before he let any more out. Taylor must be home - they didn't leave the heater on during the day.

Sure enough, Taylor was sitting at the kitchen table with a book open in front of him. He looked up and smiled - still strange to see him without glasses - and greeted him. "Hey dad, how was work."

Danny smiled back. "Pretty good. Got some work clearing out some of the warehouses off of Coltrane."

Apparently some Cape had been tearing through the gangs around the docks, and he'd found some of the abandoned warehouses the gangs used to hide their drugs. That kind of thing always put Danny on edge. Capes were dangerous business, especially in this city, and having one mucking about in his figurative backyard was worrisome, even if it did generate work for his boys. But the cops were going to be running protection, and since the warehouses were technically still the property of the Port Authority after the foreclosures it was work for the Union.

Taylor seemed to know what he'd been thinking, his face lighting up with interest. "That's where that new Cape was right? I thought they'd closed those warehouses off after that sort of thing?"

Danny answered as he opened the fridge and slid the gallon jug of milk onto the top tray. "Yeah, but the City wants them cleared out, and the Port owns them so we get the contract. Honestly it's about time we did a little cleanup, I just wish it didn't take some Cape stirring up trouble to make it happen."

He'd made this argument a hundred times before, but it never failed to get his temper going. It seemed like these days the City only had time to deal with Cape business. As if that's what those bums had been elected for! City hall, the Chamber of Commerce, hell even some of the Civil Unions, they all glad-handed with the Protectorate and the PRT for 'saving the City' while ignoring the hardworking _people_ they were supposed to represent.

His internal ranting must have shown on his face, because Taylor was looking at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Danny just chuckled in response.

"Hey," He said. "Is that Lasagna in the oven?"

He walked over and checked even as his son answered him. "Uh yeah, put it in about... twenty-five minutes ago? Should be ready in half an hour."

Danny nodded his head as he briefly inspected the foil-covered pan in the oven, letting the greasy heat wash over his face for a moment before closing the door. Ughh.

"Alright. I'm gonna go jump in the shower. Me and the boys are meeting up at Donovan's tonight to celebrate the contract so I'll be gone until late."

He turned and was halfway out of the kitchen when his son's answer caught him by surprise.

"Uh hey dad! Emma's coming over tonight."

Okay, that gave him pause. He turned and leaned on the doorframe to the living room. "Emma Barnes?"

"Yeah, she's coming over at seven. Is that OK?"

"You should have talked to me first before inviting her over." He said with a frown. He had to force it, though, a bloom of paternal pride surging up from his belly for a moment.

Taylor looked sheepish at that, twirling the pencil in his hand as he chewed over an answer. "Sorry, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, you know? We haven't really talked in a while."

Well, he wasn't wrong. Still, this kind of got in the way of his plans. Normally he might be happy that his son was convincing girls to come over. Hell, what was he saying, this was astounding. But Taylor and Emma Barnes had... history. Hmm, maybe he was overthinking this. Emma and Taylor had been friends since the day they were born, almost like brother and sister.

"Does Mr. Barnes know about this?" He asked, reaching up to tug his glasses back into place where they were starting to slip. He really needed that shower.

"Umm, Emma was gonna talk to him I think." Well, that sounded like a no.

"Alright." He said. "Is she staying the night?"

His sons face was steadily growing redder under questioning, though he kept staring him right in the eyes. "I don't know."

Danny sighed. Well, this wasn't the worst thing that could have happened, and Emma Barnes was... familiar, at least. He should be able to leave the two of them alone without worrying too much.

He'd cut the boy some slack, this once.

"Alright. I'll give Alan a call and make sure he knows Emma can stay the night." He said. Taylor's eyes popped open in surprise.

"But next time you talk to me before you invite anyone over OK. And clean up around here, yeah?"

Taylor smiled back, already moving out of his chair. "Yes sir."

Danny just chuckled and turned to head upstairs. He'd better call Alan and let him know, then he could finally get that shower.


	4. Chapter 4 - Alan Barnes

"Alright Danny, see you then." He said, gently setting the phone back down on the receiver, chuckling after a moment. Honestly, he understood Danny's reluctance to use cellphones but it had been years since the accident. It was twenty-eleven for Christs sake!

Ah well, at least it was good for a laugh, and it was also good to have friends, even in low places.

He made his way back into the dining room with a smile still on his face, and his darling wife smiled back when she noticed his good humor. Emma was looking down at her phone with an anxious look, idly poking at her carrots with her fork.

"Who was it, dear?" His wife asked as he took his seat.

He picked up his fork before answering. "Danny Hebert. Still using a landline."

"Oh, Alan," his wife chuckled, though her smile didn't quite go all the way. "What did he want?"

To answer he turned to his daughter, still looking down at her phone. "Well, apparently Emma agreed to stay the night over there. Were you going to tell me about this, honey?"

Emma looked up sharply, mouth agape for a moment as she formulated a response. "Umm, uhh yes. After dinner, I was."

"Alright," he responded evenly, not even upset. "Make sure you pack a bag after dinner, we can leave around six thirty."

Emma nodded her head silently, eyes drifting slowly back down to her phone with a vacant expression.

Honestly, kids these days.

"Oh, Emma dear, you should invite them over for dinner tomorrow. I can't even remember the last time they came over." His wife helpfully added. That wasn't a bad idea, actually. Danny Hebert wasn't exactly top dog down in the Dockworkers Union, but he wasn't a nobody. He hadn't even _talked_ to the man for.. what, four months?

"That's a great idea, honey. Actually, why don't we all go out? We can hit up the boardwalk like old times."

Emma's head had shot back up, her face in full bloom and her mouth open in shock.

"O-OK. I will daddy."

Alan watched his daughters face for several long moments, his wife chattering away in his other ear about some boutique at the boardwalk that she'd probably been to half a dozen times already. Emma's didn't seem to notice him staring, though she did put her phone down and started to pick at her food again.

Hmm. Maybe he _should_ be worried?

Oh what was he saying. Taylor Hebert? The boy was harmless.

After dinner he went into his office for a few minutes to check his Email. Five minutes till six-thirty he called upstairs for Emma to be ready to go, and downed a bottle of water from the fridge before throwing his coat on and waiting in the foyer. His daughter came down two minutes later, a small backpack thrown over one shoulder and her purse hanging from the other. She gave a small, nervous smile when she saw him, and told him she was ready to go.

The drive there was boring. A little bit longer than he remembered it being, but then he'd changed his driving habits after the... incident. Only well-lit, high-traffic streets, the ones he checked every week online to make sure were far from known gang areas.

The Hebert's neighborhood was still just as rundown and shabby as he remembered, and it put him on edge to be there in his newer-model car. Still, this part of town was clear from gang activity, just poor working class, so his little girl would be safe for the night.

He pulled into the driveway behind the beater Danny drove these days and got out with Emma, instantly feeling out of place in his long winter coat and workclothes. The street was well lit, and there wasn't anything obviously trashy on this block like engine blocks or appliances in the front lawns, though he did notice the sidewalk was cracked and pitted. Still, he did _not_ want to leave his car parked out here for too long.

He walked Emma up to the front door, frowning a bit when the second board on the front stairs bent and groaned dangerously under his weightt. He looked up when the door opened up to reveal Danny Hebert...

No, that wasn't Danny.

"Taylor?" He asked in disbelief.

' _Holy cow_ ,' he thought. Puberty had hit this kid like a ton of bricks. Taylor had always been tall, but scrawny too. That wasn't the case anymore; he was taller than Alan now, and he could see serious muscle under the fabric of the cheap t-shirt the teenager was wearing.

"Mr. Barnes." Taylor greeted him with a confident smile, one hand reaching out to pull him into a handshake. Alan winced at the strength of the boys grip, his own hand clamping down after a moment.

Taylor released his hand before it got awkward, and turned to Emma with that same smile.

"Hey, Emma."

His daughter was looking at Taylor like she was seeing him for the first time. But that wasn't true, he must be imagining things. He knew they weren't as close as the used to be these days, but they went to school together. So then why was her face so red?

Oh, they were still outside.

"Mind if we come in, kiddo? It's freezing out here."

Taylor just flashed that smile and stepped aside, ushering them in. This cold snap was murder, but you couldn't expect much better in New England in March, even in the Bay.

As Taylor closed the door behind them Alan spotted Danny coming down the stairs, dressed in slacks and a button-up.

"Hey Alan, how have you been?" He asked cheerfully.

Alan smiled back, shaking his old friends hand. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that the fathers grip wasn't quite as strong as the sons. "I've been doing good Danny, how about yourself?"

Danny led him into the kitchen for a few minutes to make small talk. He made the invitation for tomorrow and Danny accepted, though the pained look that flashed over his face for a moment told him everything he needed to know about the Hebert's' finances. Honestly it was the mans own fault; with his degree he could get a job at any of the firms still in this city, hell in the state. Instead he stuck with the Union. If nothing else, Danny Hebert had determination, for all the good it would do him.

Emma and Taylor were sitting in the living room when he got up to leave, probably talking about School or something. He took one more good look at the boy - and Taylor stared right back. Alan felt like there was something he might be concerned about...

Oh, his car out front. Yeah he'd better get going. He bade his daughter and the Hebert's good night and hurried from the front door to his car as fast as he could. God it was so freaking cold out!


	5. Chapter 5 - Taylor

**NSFW Content included in this chapter. Notes at the bottom**

* * *

It was almost funny looking back now. When this had all started back in January, I hadn't even thought of Emma and Sophia as a problem. Not for nearly a week; from the day I woke up in the hospital to the day before I had to go back to school. It was a stupid thing to forget, really. Those two - and Madison, I guess - had been such huge parts of Taylor's life that I should have known what was coming.

I'd just been so wrapped up worrying about the big picture that I'd forgotten about them. Or, well I'd forgotten what they _meant_ for my life. Even during the first few days back in _High school_ , I'd gone on thinking that I could ignore them.

So fucking stupid of me. Before the first week was out I'd started getting made fun of. Petty, literally school-yard shit but it had been annoying. I'd bitten back for sure, but then the next week I'd gotten punched in the gut by some punk with a fauxhawk, and it had only gotten worse from there; the harassment, the beatings, getting tripped in the hall and having my books nabbed from my desk and the hundred other small deprivations that kids could inflict on one another. I'd realized quickly that it wasn't going to just stop, that I really was locked into Taylor's shit life.

Honestly, his experience with High school and mine weren't all that different. I'd been subjected to my fair share of bullying, I remembered well. And damn if it didn't still hurt, that old shame of getting hurt and not hurting back. Like an old nightmare that you'd forgotten, coming back to haunt you.

Hell, even our way of coping had been the same. _Just keep your head down_. _Don't make trouble_. They'll get bored, you'll move on, and one day this will all just be a memory. Like I was just supposed to _eat_ it. Like my self-esteem wasn't actually important, like I could jettison it without consequence and move away from the pain.

I'd thought about running away, of course. Maybe joining the Undersiders early, or the PRT, or even _Cauldron_ but... well, I suppose even then there was a part of me that was still Taylor Hebert. I couldn't just leave da- Danny - alone after everything that had happened. So I just kept telling myself that I had needed time to power up before I could step out into the real world.

Really though, at the heart of it, I just didn't have it in me to take that kind of punishment lying down. Not again.

I'd already been working out when I made that decision; at home first, then at the YMCA when I realized pushups and Mario jumps weren't enough to explain the muscle I was putting on.

Then I'd started getting into fights. Or more accurately, I'd started fighting back.

Shoulder-check me in the hallway? I fought you.

Knock my book on the floor in History class? I fought you.

Talk shit as I passed by on my way to my desk? I fought you

And I _won_. Every time.

I also got into trouble every time. At first the staff had been reluctant to do anything serious about it, what with my recent experience in the locker. But then one of the boys Emma had sent after me had gone and broken his arm recovering from a shove. Blackwell had been furious, but then Danny had lost his temper and yelled right back about what they'd let me go through at the start of the semester. I'd only just finished my two weeks of detention on Wednesday, but I hadn't had very many problems since.

Danny had been pissed at first, but I could tell there was a hint of pride under it all. I'd felt pretty good about it myself, despite the fact that I was just beating up schoolkids rather than supervillains. It was good practice, at least.

But always there remained the problem of Emma and Sophia. Mostly just Emma, after I'd knocked Sophia around a little. All on accident of course! I still cherished the look on her face when I turned one of her lunges into a fall, 'catching' her before she ate the floor.

Emma wasn't so easy to dissuade. I just hadn't realized at first how much she had invested into her little 'game.' How much of her life she'd built up around Taylor's misery. I wish I could call it pathetic now, but...

There was a difference between reading about something and experiencing first hand. Obvious, really, but I'd only ever seen Emma Barnes through the filter of a story. A character, a villain maybe, and one easily scorned when viewed from a distance. I'd done that in the back of my mind for weeks, and sometimes I'd told her what I'd been thinking and I could see the fury boiling in her eyes even as she tried to keep calm and in control.

I just hadn't realized the truth yet. I hadn't _felt_ it, the reality of it. Not until I'd cobbled together the ***** id, not until I had _seen_.

She wasn't at all conscious of it, of course. I'd dumped enough charges into id to make sure of that. A simulated brain, Emma's entire neural architecture available for study, for experimentation or manipulation. And a thinker power capable of doing that manipulation finer than any human. Certainly better than plain old me. I could do anything I wanted to 'Emma' and none of it would be real. Know all her dark secrets, test what words would cause the most hurt. A metaphorical torture chamber.

So I'd gone poking around in her brain, trying to... what. Find dirt I suppose, though even during those first days I'd felt that familiar tingle of anticipation. That slick, shivering feeling in my gut; racing up my back, telling me that even if I wasn't _thinking_ of it I _knew._ Knew what I could do, what I _wanted_ to do. That it would be so easy...

It was.

I'd dug into her memories with a tremble of anticipation, distracting my impulses with a search for something less offensive. The Alley, where it had all started. The worst thing that had ever happened to Emma and the best weapon to use against her. I hadn't truly believed that I would ever really bring myself to use it like that, but I'd wanted to see it all the same. Just in case.

So I'd found that memory, not that it was hard to find. Emma had tried to forget, tried to put it behind her, but it was buried like a corpse in a shallow grave. Like fresh scar tissue, inflamed and obvious the instant my minds eye glanced over it.

And so I watched.

I could remember the phone call. Never had I hated Taylor's memories as much as I had in that moment. He'd been at camp, yammering about some stupid canoe race and so happy to talk to his friend. And she'd been happy too, to talk to him. So he'd just babbled on until the call ended, and two seconds later Alan Barnes crashed into a dumpster some ABB recruits had pushed in front of his car.

I could feel it.

The surprise at the sudden crash.

The scrape of the blade against her cheek. The harsh laughs ringing in her ears.

The reek of vomit tinged with blood and the oily heat of the car behind her as they tried to make her choose. The warm trickle of urine flooding down her leg.

The horror, the fear. The disorientation from the collision and the sheer disbelief that this _could not be happening to her_.

It was worse than the locker.

In a different world - maybe a better one - Emma Barnes would have Triggered in that alley. She'd earned it. She'd _broken_. Even as she'd fought, shrieking and clawing in desperation. Emma had been thirteen and she'd been fighting for her life and...

Emma hadn't 'died' in that alley. No, nothing so poetic.

The happy teenage girl who went in came back out of it to a world that was cruel and menacing and _real_ , and she hadn't known what to do about it. She locked herself in her room for days because she couldn't face it.

And then Sophia was there. Waiting for her when she returned to the alley.

I wasn't even mad at Sophia for that. Not anymore. I couldn't have helped Emma with what she'd gone through, not really. I'd been so _weak_ then. So fragile. Moms death had ripped the heart out of my life and I'd been absolutely _pathetic_ about it.

But Sophia had been strong, and she'd told Emma that she was strong too. That she was a fighter, and that the world was a wicked place that would chew her up in a heartbeat if she didn't stand up for herself. If she didn't strike first.

Sophia wasn't wrong. Not entirely, at least. Oh, I didn't buy into the whole 'Predator vs Prey' bullshit but it wasn't far off the mark. Hammer or the anvil, winner or the loser. That was life, fundamentally. Taylor hadn't believed that; his mother had taught him _better_. Taught him that the world was a _good_ place full of _good_ people who would be good to him if he was kind and sympathetic to the pain.

That wasn't entirely wrong either, I don't think. But nobody had ever taught Taylor how to have a spine, so when I came back from summer camp with a sunburn and head full of stories I'd been helpless when Emma had cast me aside.

I'd just shut down. Swallowed the pain of betrayal and hoped and prayed and waited for it to end. For Emma to get _bored_ with me and walk away. And I kept asking myself why. Why was she doing this to me? What had I done to deserve this?

I knew now; I'd been weak, that's why I'd deserved it.

Once Emma knew the value of strength she'd been desperate to see _any_ , any at all in me. Those first few months of bullying she'd looked for any sign of defiance. She'd wanted so badly for me to prove myself, to stand up for myself. To do _something_! But I hadn't known what to do, so I'd just curled up into a shell and waited for it all to go away.

The desperation curdled into disgust. She _despised_ me for my weakness. And so she kept at it, punishing me for my failure. It hurt more than it should to know that I'd let her down, even then.

I should have been _strong_ goddamnit! I should have been strong enough so that she could have relied on me. So she could have waited for me to come back and then cried on my shoulder but I hadn't been. I'd been weak and useless, and she'd been right to cast me aside. I could forgive her for doing that.

But I wouldn't forgive her for making my life a living hell. I couldn't forget all those moments of doubt and self-hatred or this deep, alien sense of shame and uselessness. She'd stomped my soul into the dirt so she could stand tall and I couldn't forgive _that_.

So I'd come away from her memory with a new plan. A new purpose. I no longer hated Emma, but I wasn't going to let this go either. I was going to make amends, in my own small selfish way. And I was going to get my own at the same time.

I was more than meeting her half way here; bulking up, holding my own at school. Everything she'd wanted from me from the start, too late to make a difference. But only if I wasn't willing to play dirty.

I poured more and more charges into id, slowly molding it into the power I truly needed. It wasn't enough to just peek inside someone's head and mess around in a simulation, I needed to be able to safely make changes in the real world. It took away from my other projects sure, but suddenly I'd had a new purpose, a new goal. After Coil, I'd found myself largely without any concrete plans, nothing immediate that I could sink my teeth into. This had been perfect.

I'd started nearly a month ago, and tonight my work was finally starting to come to fruition.

* * *

Emma and I sat in the living room as Mr. Barnes pulled out of the driveway. Her in an old armchair next to the television and me on the far end of the couch leaning on the armrest. Headlights flashed through the front windows for a brief moment casting shadows on the far wall, and I glanced over towards the front door as the sound of the engine faded away.

I felt a little bad about using id on Alan so rashly, but I didn't need any interference now. Honestly I had felt worse having used it on Danny earlier today.

I turned back to look at Emma, her eyes shooting back up from where she'd been checking me out. I smiled on the inside - keeping my face neutral to the world - as I let id feed me what was going on in her head.

I'd been a little worried about doing this so soon. I'd expected to have another week at least before I made my move, but Emma had given me the perfect opportunity today. That and she'd made me lose my temper, the poor girl.

She was desperately trying - and failing - to keep the blush off of her cheeks. With her pale skin and freckles she didn't stand a chance, and the effect was very cute. I let her stew for a moment while I went over a few details. I wasn't going to get sloppy now.

Currently she was thinking about how fast her father would turn around if she called him. id took care of that without my interference, making sure Emma realized how silly that was. Alan had just made plans with us for tomorrow after all, and she didn't want to upset her parents by causing trouble. It was better if she just dealt with whatever I wanted anyway.

Everything else seemed to be going perfectly. Her mind kept slipping back to how good my muscles looked. She hadn't seen them before now, what with my winter fashion basically being formless hoodies and jeans. I was glad I'd gone through the trouble of keeping that a surprise.

Dad - Danny - walked in through the kitchen door with a smile.

"Hey kids just let me know if you two need anything before I head out, alright? There's milk in the fridge if you want any."

"Thanks, dad," I answered with a genuine smile.

Emma looked alarmed, and I almost burst out laughing when I looked at what she was thinking. I'd made sure Danny hadn't told Alan that he was going out tonight, and Emma had no way of knowing either. id smoothed off the ragged edges of her panic and made sure she didn't start feeling ill over the prospect of being left alone with me.

Danny climbed the stairs to go get his jacket, leaving me and Emma to stare at each other silently. Emma squirmed in her chair, mind running a mile a minute. I didn't want to interrupt too many of her natural responses right now; I needed her to be in just the right headspace for what was coming.

id kept a careful watch, pruning the more extreme trains of thought, guiding her mind briefly down through a few... alternatives. Her blush intensified momentarily as she was lead down one such path. But only for a moment before she was allowed to dismiss it. Just a tease. That kiss earlier today certainly helped.

Danny came back down the stairs in a hurry; It was already fifteen past seven, and he was going to be late for the party down at Donovan's.

I made sure to smile back at him as he passed. "Alright kids," He said, "you have fun. The number for the bar is on the kitchen counter if you need it, and don't stay up too late."

He was out the door a second later, leaving me and Emma alone at last.

I let myself savor this moment as the sound of Danny's truck faded away, taking in Emma in all her beauty.

And she was beautiful, even without the makeup I noticed she'd decided to forgo. Her face was faintly heart-shaped, with prominent cheekbones trailing down over soft, smooth cheeks and a graceful fine-boned chin, capped with a delicate chin. Her mouth and nose were small, dainty almost, but were perfect on her elfin features. Her long, straight red hair was thrown carelessly behind her ears, and her pert cupids-bow lips were set in a petulant scowl. Her eye's told a different story, wide and alert, but twitching this way and that with nervousness.

My heart beat like a trip-hammer in my chest with anticipation.

"Emma," I said. God, I'd been patient with changing my voice and the results were _more_ than worth the wait. The deep timbre of it almost seemed to vibrate the air between us, and I could see in her mind the effect it had on her.

Emma nearly gasped at the sound of it in the quiet house, her face shaking for a brief moment as her dry lips parted to start panting. She wasn't quite trembling yet, but her pupils were dilated and her chest was starting to heave in the beginnings of a panic.

I patted the empty spot next to me on the couch. "Come sit over here, so we can talk."

For a moment she didn't move at all, processing the order. Then, she slowly pushed herself to her feet with an arm that just _barely_ shook.

She took one step towards the couch, and then bolted towards the door.

I was up just as quick, and I had my arms around her before she could get half way to it. She fought me like an animal, just like earlier today in the classroom. Bucking, kicking, scratching. But she didn't scream, even as I pinned her wrists across her stomach and lifted her off the floor.

"No!" She growled furiously. Angry, not afraid.

This was good. I needed her to get this out of her system the old-fashioned way. I was only willing to do so much through the id, and some lessons needed to be taught in real time.

I hauled her away from the door, letting her tire herself out in my arms as I brought her towards the couch. She got tired a lot quicker now than she had earlier today in the classroom, but she was still ferocious in her defiance. When she finally stopped trying to crack my shins in half with her heel I sat back down on the couch with her in my lap. Her chest heaved as she dragged in ragged breaths, and I could feel the heat of her body radiating onto mine.

Well, this wasn't quite how I saw this going, but I wasn't going to complain.

"Let me go!" Apparently Emma was, though.

"Do you promise to sit still?" I asked firmly. I almost wanted her to say no; I was very much enjoying the feeling of her body pressed against mine.

Emma sucked in a few more breaths before she answered. "Fine, yes! Just let me go damnit!"

I did, sliding over and dropping her bottom onto the couch. The id immediately picked up her intention to scoot away to the far end to get away from me, and in a moment of frustration I let it crush that impulse.

I looked down at her as she collected herself. She had her head turned down and away from me.

"Emma."

"What?! What do you _want_ Taylor?" She bit back.

"Look at me, Emma."

She did, reluctantly. Her eyes were bright, and just a tad bit watery. She was so beautiful, with her face red from exertion and her eyes bright. Her hair was still perfect, like red silk in the low light given off by the table lamp in the corner.

Those perfect lips of hers moved to sound out a word. "What."

It wasn't spoken like a question, so I just tilted my head back and to the side. She frowned at the nonverbal cue.

"What do you want?" She asked, her face screwed up in frustration.

"I want you to talk, Emma."

"About _what_?"

I let the question linger between us for a moment, double-checking with the id that everything was in order.

"I want you to tell me why you can't let me go."

Her jaw hinged loose and she looked up at me like I had grown a second head. God, I felt so fucking smug right now, watching her mind try to process the question.

Really the question wasn't too far off the original truth: Emma _had_ been obsessed with me for well over half a year now. Two months ago the answer would have been disgust, pure spite and hatred. It had been relatively simple to alter the intent behind that obsession over the last month, and then to let it sit there in the back of her mind so that every time she saw me, thought of me or heard my name her mind would wind itself back to it.

The denial and horror that had wracked her mind as she'd come to realize that Taylor Hebert had _finally_ started to stand up for himself, and that she had still been waiting for it after all this time was immensely satisfying. More than that; that she found herself attracted to me, weak little Taylor. Every time she saw me. Thought of me. At school, at home, and in her dreams.

And now sitting right there looking down at her, waiting for an answer.

"I-I-I..."

I drank it in.

"Y-you-"

"Emma." I interrupted.

She went still immediately as my voice dragged over her, her thoughts evaporating as it drowned out anything else. Her mouth trembled, eye's fluttering and then closing for just a half-second too long as she drank it in. This was too fun, but I needed to keep pressing.

"What happened to you, Emma?"

It was a bold question. Too bold, really. Without the id to guide her thoughts she'd be clawing at my face in anguish and rage.

"What does it matter?" She threw back with heat.

"I..." I needed to pose this question just right. There was no fucking this up. I let the id take over, my face twitching into just the right expression to convey empathy without Emma finding it patronizing.

"I know something happened to you. Something that made you hate me, made you want to hurt me." The id spoke with my voice. I could never have said those words so smoothly, so calmly.

She flinched at that, but I had to put my trust in the id on this. I was in too deep to back off now.

"I'm not angry about what happened between us Emma. I know whatever it was must have hurt you bad, and that I wasn't really..."

id made me pause for just a moment.

"I wasn't strong enough back then, to be whatever it was you needed. I think you knew that. I think that's why you've been trying to hurt me so badly. I must of let you down in some god-awful way and never known it."

One of my hands reached up and cupped her cheek. Emma didn't recoil from the contact, the thought of even doing so destroyed before it could form. She leaned her head into the curve of my palm on instinct, the thinking parts of her brain occupied by the feel of the rough callouses that scraped against her cheek.

"I couldn't see it then, your pain. You hid it so well, and I had no idea what was happening. I didn't understand, and for a long time I didn't want to understand. I just wanted to run away from you, to get away from the pain you were causing _me_ without even thinking about why you were doing it. I was so selfish."

I stared deep into her eyes, drawing her in.

"I've taken everything you could dish out, Emma, without understanding. But now I want to understand."

I could see tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

"So tell me. Now."

There was no going back for either of us.

She told me everything, and without spite. She almost cried at the beginning, but then forced the tears back all on her own. God, she was strong. She told me about her near mutilation, about how she'd found the courage to fight back. She even told me about how she'd been saved, though without telling me by _who_. That was fine, I could see she needed to hold on to that secret a little longer. It wasn't important right now.

My gut wrenched even with the scant details she offered. I'd seen it all in her memories but hearing her tell it was something else. It broke my heart to know that my friend had been broken like that, and that I hadn't been there to help her. The shame of knowing that I couldn't have done anything even if I had been was a dull ache in the back of my mind, but I forced myself to acknowledge it. Emma deserved as much.

Finally she finished her tale. I looked through the id again and knew that she was drained emotionally, but immensely relieved. Like some enormous weight she hadn't realized she'd been shouldering had been shrugged off. She'd long since regained her breath, but her face was glowing like a bonfire. She'd borne her soul to me just now, and I knew how vulnerable she felt. She didn't need to worry.

I took back over from the id. The dangerous time had passed, and we were both on the other side now. I'd still followed it's recommendations of course, but some things a man needed to do with his own hands.

"I am so, so sorry, Emma."

Emma stared at me for a long moment.

"So what's changed?"

The question was asked without inflection. Part of that was how drained Emma was right now, but I could see behind that. It was a challenge, another test. I allowed myself to smile, giving her a little boost to liven her up.

I narrowed one of my fingernails to a razor's edge with a thought and brought it up to my face, drawing down over my cheek as I spoke my answer.

"You put me in the locker."

Emma gasped, eyes going wide in horror as my flesh parted under my nail, wet red muscle and tendon exposed for a brief instant before I let it seal back up without a trace. Emma understood what was happening before I was finished with my demonstration.

"No." She denied.

Oh fuck.

"No no nononononono-!"

Shit I shouldn't have given her that boost.

She moved as if to run again and I reached over to grab a hold of her.

And then we were back to fighting.

It was tougher this time, though quicker. She screamed like she was dying and punched me in the head twice, then tried to bite my nose.

I leaned back from that, just a little bit surprised. I jostled her so I could slip one arm free and slapped her across the face.

"Stop it, Emma!"

She tried to punch me again, and I lost my patience.

"You did this to me! Do you understand?! You did this."

I shook her, roughly, and she finally stopped fighting, an unhinged look in her eyes.

"How!?" She wailed.

"In the locker. I..." God damnit.

"It happened in the locker." I finished lamely, uncertain how else to explain it. The id had no better options.

She finally went limp in my arms and started to cry.

I held her against me as she cried the tears of the damned. I almost joined her, and I had to let the id force away the heavy sensation prickling behind my eyes. God, this night was actually starting to get to me.

"I'm sorry!" She cried out. What?

"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry-" She chanted in between her sobs. I rocked her back and forth shushing her as she broke down again.

"Shhh, it's OK. It's OK. It's not you're fault, it's not your fau-"

"No!" she screamed, prying herself off of my chest.

Fuck it.

I darted in and kissed her again, my lips smashing full force into hers and stopping her protests mid-gasp. The id directed my face at the last minute so our noses and chins didn't smash together. My hands came out to firmly encircle the back of her head, my fingers laced through her silken hair soaking up the warmth radiating off her head. My thumbs were moved deftly to wipe away the tears snaking down from her eyes as I cupped her soft cheeks in my palms.

I'd moved so quickly that for a long moment Emma was shocked into motionlessness, but when I parted my lips against hers she instinctively moved along with them, her eyes losing intensity and fluttering as my lips coaxed hers further open with every osculation.

Emma's breath gusted out through her nose, tickling my face as she let out a grunt of pleasure, her hips shifting in my lap, sidling up just a bit closer against the friction of our clothes.

I knew I had her when she pulled back for a moment, her lips _just_ breaking contact, and the loss of it had her leaning back in before she could even catch her breath. In reward I shifted my left hand completely around the back of her head, making sure she wouldn't try something so silly twice, and brought my right down to rest lightly on her hips.

Just as she was losing herself again the id had me break the kiss.

Shit, why was my breathing so heavy? I struggled to calm myself, the blood thundering through my ears and Emma's tremulous panting was all I could process. The id was telling me I needed to say something before the moment passed, but my mind was so slow and my lips felt so heavy. I let it speak the words.

"I was _weak_ Emma," I said, the tone low and intimate. "I was too weak to save you, before. You changed that. You made me strong. You don't need to be sorry for anything." My thumb came up to brush away a late-coming tear from her cheek. She pressed her head into my palm, her eyes struggling to focus as she hung off of every word.

"Since I got out of the hospital all I can think about is how much I owe you. How much I need you. I know you feel the same way Emma, all this time you were trying to tell me and I finally figured it out."

The id paused for a moment, and Emma listed forward in anticipation, as if begging for me to go on.

"I'm strong now, and I'm going to keep you safe. You're gonna be my girl, and I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

And there. We. Go.

The stars aligned, and in a flash all of the little changes I'd been making to Emma Barnes for weeks synced up. Like a puzzle that didn't make sense until the last piece was in; all the little thoughts and feelings I'd worked into her mind realizing themselves in a singular epiphany. Emma didn't know it yet but I'd just made her the happiest girl in the world, and In that moment I was very, _very_ glad I hadn't just brute-forced her decision with the id; watching her come around like this was so much more satisfying.

"You're mine now, do you understand?" I demanded.

"Yes!" She sobbed out, her face split into a delirious grin. The smile I gave back wasn't in the least bit managed.

Emma threw her arms around my neck and kissed me so hard our teeth clicked together. Her lips frantic, trying to form a seal against mine and failing as a helpless grin split her face. A few giggles slipped out of her, high and joyous, hot tears slicking the friction of our cheeks against one another. She only pulled away for a moment when I pushed hard against the small of her back, pressing her body into mine.

I was done waiting.

Emma didn't need my hand to guide her lips to mine any more, so I brought my other hand down and under the bottom of her blouse. Her warm, smooth flesh was as supple as calfskin under my hand as I grasped at her waist. She moaned into my mouth in response, her lips twitching spastically against mine until she had to come up for air.

My hands were big for a teenagers so I had no trouble getting a firm grip around Emma's middle. The bottoms of my hands pressed against the soft juncture where her thighs and hips curved in, and my fingers were almost touching across the dip of her spine even as my thumbs rested on either side of her belly button. The plushness of Emma's skin belied the hard, tight muscle under her belly, and I could feel them flex smoothly under my palms as she squirmed and gasped at my bold touching.

I paused for a moment to let her catch her breath, her forehead resting against my own as she struggled to regain her equilibrium, then closed my mouth over her bottom lip and drew it into my mouth like jello off of a spoon.

It was as swollen and tender as a bruise and the lingering taste of lip gloss and the tumidity of it reminded me of a ripe berry as I kneaded it with my tongue. Emma quaked against me in ecstasy and pain, a whimper squeaking out as her eyes screwed shut in shock and her head jerked away on impulse. I kept my hold on her lip, so all she ended up doing was distending it for a moment before having to lean back in, her forehead thumping solidly against mine.

Her teeth nipped futilely at my upper lip, and when that didn't work she changed tactics and closed her upper lip over mine trying to draw it away in imitation. She was shivering constantly now, her plaintive breath punctuated by helpless groans of pleasure. Her hands came up from my arms to push against my shoulders, my treatment driving her frantic. Her movements had brought some of her hair to slip past her ears, tickling my cheeks as they swayed and drifted over them.

I gave her aching lip one more heavy suck, then let it pop audibly out of my mouth.

She kept her head against mine, her breathing thunderous and trill; practically a moan. Her shivering stopped in fits; every time she tried to force herself still was like compressing a spring, one that inevitably had her trembling in my arms for a few moments when she lost control.

Slowly she calmed down, her breathing evening out and her eyes fluttering open lazily to look into my own as her tongue gently prodded at her abused lip. The wild look of anger and pain that she had worn before was gone, mellowed out by my physical assault. What had replaced it was a wide-eyed look of such genuine vulnerability that I couldn't help but get lost in it, the id meeting her with a gaze of my own that communicated affection and strength.

The tingle of excitement buzzing through my body was like an electric current, leaving me conscious of every part of my body, from the rough denim bunched up around my waist to the lumpy texture of the sofa cushion behind my back. Better yet was the feeling of Emma's firm thighs spread around my waist and her ass on my lap. I could feel my cock starting to thicken down the leg of my jeans as whatever control the id may have had broke under my desire.

My hands slid upwards almost of their own accord; the smooth, warm skin of her abdomen was as supple as calfskin under my palm, but I forced myself to abandon the sensation to grasp the hem of her shirt and bring it up over her head. Emma lifted her arms to allow me to do so despite her surprise but left them up in shock for a moment, slowly bringing them down to rest on my shoulders while I drank in the sight of her.

Emma's pale, blemishless skin was like poured cream, every inch of it from her hips to her hairline a smooth lustrous hue that almost seemed to glow in the lamplight. Her waist looked just as taut as it felt, her flat, smooth abdomen showing only the barest hints of definition under soft flesh.

Above her abdomen I could see the faint outline of her ribs under her skin; the way I danced my hands over them earned me a renewed gasp. My thumbs joined together to glide up the divot of her sternum, hands molding to the contours of her body before I brought them to a halt just beneath her bra.

At just over a regular C-cup Emma was more developed than most girls her age, which had done wonders for her amateur modeling career. And no wonder why; her firm, full breasts filled both cups completely, bulging out around the rim of the fabric and trembling stiffly with her heartbeat. For a moment I forgot about the urgency that had taken me this far, entranced by the hypnotic rhythm of her heart playing out across the tops of her breasts. I could just barely see the faint outline of veins under her pale skin trailing down towards her unrevealed nipples, and the two bumps pebbling under the cloth that clearly gave their location away.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, buying me time to set the id to calming my thundering heart and to make any last minute alterations. When I opened my eyes again I looked directly into Emma's, the hitch in her breath when I did so was so cute it almost made me laugh and ruin the moment. Instead I kept her shocked eyes locked on my own as I leaned forward to plant one last chaste kiss on her lips while both of my hands snaked around her back to loosen the metal fastener of her bra. Emma trembled for a moment when she felt what I'd done, but my gaze kept her shocked still as I did my quick work.

I kept my eyes on hers as I leaned back into the couch cushion, bringing the straps of her bra with me. For a moment the beige-colored fabric filled my vision, and I could just detect the faint smell of perfume coming off of it as Emma lifted her hands off of my shoulders to let me bring it up over my head. I let her bra fall behind me, and only then did I drag my eyes down to see what I'd revealed.

" _Oh my god_ ," I whispered in awe. Her tits were amazing.

Even without the bra they sat high and perky, swelling from her chest in defiance of gravity like limpets. If I didn't already know they were natural I would be tempted to think she'd had work done; as it was, I could only stare in wonder at every dramatic curve.

' _Would definitely pass the pencil test,_ ' I thought with joy.

Her areola seemed to fade into existence on the tops of her breasts from the surrounding flesh, a soft pink that only got slightly darker as it transitioned into the stiff, eraser-head sized nipples I'd noticed before. Both looked rock hard right now, pointing out and up slightly.

I brought both my hands up, cupping her bust gently. They felt so _smooth_ , like they would glide right out of my hands if I didn't maintain tension. Still, I kept my touch as light as possible as I brought the bottom edges of my hands into the curve between her chest and breasts, my fingers brushing up along their slopes on either side. I brought my thumbs up through the wide valley of her cleavage, brushing them up towards her nipples.

Hot puffs of breath battered my face as Emma panted under my touch. At some point she'd bunched the fabric of my shirt around my shoulders in her hands. I was suddenly aware of how hot and uncomfortable my clothes were, not to mention the painful erection stretching my denim.

Reluctantly I removed my hands from her breasts, giving Emma just enough time to sigh in relief before I reached down and pulled my shirt off up over my head. Emma's arms recoiled to give me the room I needed to do it, but stilled when I rested my arms on the top of the couch on either side of me and leaned back.

I took a deep breath in relief, now freed from the confines of my shirt, my bare chest expanding into the lower edges of my sight. I'd been bulking since I'd gotten home from school and probably should have picked a different shirt, but I'd wanted to show off a little. It was fine now that things had progressed so well; more than fine given the way Emma's eyes were glued to my chest. With her glorious tits hanging out I decided to return the favor and give her a minute to appreciate me.

While it was true that the changes I'd made to my body over the last few months were dramatic, I'd always made sure to make those changes appear gradual in public. I'd spent more hours than I'd like admit in front of a mirror, slowly molding my body to absolute perfection, but always having to undo most of it when I went to school or when around Danny.

Now, though? Well, I wasn't quite up to the Adonis I'd end up with, but with just Emma to show off to and with the id doing such good work I was as muscular as a Chippendale model.

And damn if Emma wasn't appreciating that fact right now. Through the id I could see her synapses lighting up like a coal-seam fire, the mere sight of me tickling instincts so fundamental to female nature that the id hardly needed to touch them.

Not that it didn't have work to do, making sure that those responses - and their connection to _me_ \- became more permanent in the future

I pushed all that away, coming back to the real world just in time to see Emma's hand reaching toward one of my pectorals. Her hand flattened itself out on the hard plane I'd sculpted my chest into, her face slack and red as she moved her hand side-to-side, feeling me up.

Feeling a little mischievous I flexed the targeted muscle, making Emma flinch a bit and hiss in surprise. Her blush got even deeper when she noticed me watching her and the shit-eating grin I was sporting.

Watching her eye's pop open when she felt me flex my cock was even more satisfying.

' _Yeah, she's ready_.'

"Stand up," I ordered.

Emma blinked owlishly in response, staring at me blankly as her befuddled mind processed the demand. When my hands began to gently push against her waist she got the picture, sitting up off of my lap in order to uncurl her legs on either side of me.

Her Jeans scraped against the fabric of the couch as her shins slid off of the cushion, and she had to transfer her grip to my shoulders for support to stand up - though she did so without taking her hands off of me, I noticed. Emma didn't back up from the couch once she'd stood up, I noticed, and the length of my arms meant that my hands were still gripping her hips. When I pushed her back a little bit so that I could spread my legs out past hers she let her hands glide down from my shoulders to my arms, her firm grip tracing every contour of muscle on the way.

We stayed like that for a moment, staring into each others eyes, an unspoken conversation taking place. I already knew that I wanted to take this all the way, but Emma was so overwhelmed by the nights events and the id's meddling that she was pretty much going along moment to moment. I wanted this all to mean something for her, even if I was frantic to get inside her as quick as I could; So, I needed to make sure that Emma realized she was OK with where this was going. Taking a few moments to let her come to that conclusion was worth the wait.

Slowly, I moved my hands toward the fly of her jeans, watching her eye's the whole way. It was a beautiful thing, seeing the realization dawn on her of where I was going, what I was doing. I hardly paid attention to what the id was telling me as I tried to coax her into acceptance with my eyes alone.

It didn't _quite_ work, as Emma demonstrated when my fingers curled against her belly as started to work the tack button loose. Both of her hands clamped down over mine in shock, her eyes growing alarmingly focused in an instant. Her abdomen bellowed against my knuckles as her breathing picked up again, her lips parted absently as her mind whirled in reaction.

I stopped, disappointed in myself for a moment before I took notice of the id once again; It was already at work, of course, having seen this last-minute resistance a mile away. Emma's reaction wasn't a surprise, of course, and the id had been tamping down her resistance to my advances all afternoon, but I'd hoped for a moment that I would be able to get through it without overt assistance. Oh well.

Emma's grip loosed noticeably after a moment, and the id provided me with my next line.

"Don't be afraid Emma." I said gently, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss just above her bellybutton. I leaned back to see her eyes growing less frantic.

Softly, I started to knead my knuckles into the smooth skin hidden under the waistline of her jeans. Her breath hitched at the sensation, the pressure being just above her mound. I pressed in a little deeper, a little lower, and her breath turned into a soft moan, her lips pinching shut in concentration as her hands relaxed entirely to start massaging my own.

The tack button snapped open quietly, though I noticed her eyes jolt open a bit at the sudden loss of tension around her waist.

Emma's hand left my own, and keeping the pinky and ring finger of each hand under fabric I swept both hands around the curve of her hips. The tilt I gave to my palms caused her zipper to part about an inch of it's length, a subtle application of telekinesis unzipping it the rest of the way as I pulled both hands down over Emma's hip in one smooth motion, bringing her jeans and panties down with them.

The id kept my eyes on Emma's own, but my mind was consumed with the sensation of my fingers on her skin, curling around to press into her ass. Here again I could feel the effects of Emma's training, though there was quite a bit more meat for me to squeeze before I felt any muscle. I could only spare a moment to relish the feeling - which I would _definitely_ be revisiting - as my hands swept over the bottom curve of her ass and the last of her clothes dropped down around her knees.

' _God, every part of this girl is perfect_ ,' I thought as I firmly grasped the back of Emma's thighs. My hands were large, but even still I barely hold half of her legs as I brought my thumbs around to massage her quadriceps. Emma's face was in full blush, her eyes squinted as I massaged my way down toward her knees. When she started moaning so uncontrollably that she bit her lip in an attempt to hold them in I gave her a squeeze that forced them open with a gasp.

I kept her attention focused on my eyes as I leaned in and lifted both of her legs, one after the other, to remove her shoes and pull both legs of her jeans off of her well-shaped calves. Giving her belly-button one last kiss I leaned back and dragged my eyes down to see what my work had revealed.

The gentle curves of Emma's hips weren't too dramatic, but on a girl of her age and frame they were perfect, the thinness of her waist giving it added emphasis. Her hip bones visibly protruded on either side, the curve of her hips dipping slightly beneath then before peaking on the bulging flesh of her thighs. Both legs were as well-formed as they had felt, long, plump thighs with muscles just visible underneath a cushion of fat. Her calves were long and slender, tapering down to her delicate feet.

Between Emma's hips her tufted mound and the wishbone-shaped gap between her thighs framed her sex. Her wispy-looking pubic hair was a shade darker than that on her head, trimmed into a rough triangle that covered most of her mound; Beneath, the thin lips of her sex and the glistening folds they failed to hide glaringly pink even against the pale, stubbled flesh that surrounded them.

I didn't hesitate in bringing my hands up to squeeze her ass again, biting my own lip in appreciation. Emma's hands found my wrists again as I dug my fingers a few inches into her soft cheeks, earning me a yelp and the sight of her sex jerking towards me. She was wet, I could see; I looked on in wonder as a bead of moisture gathered on one of her folds, watched it shimmer and tremble with tension.

I used telekinesis to take my shoes off in an instant, my socks following them, and moved to stand up the moment they were off.

I had to have her. Now.

I stood up abruptly, my hands on her ass the only thing keeping Emma from stumbling backwards. I towered over her, and the look of shock and trepidation on her face as she bent her neck to look up to me made me feel like a god.

"Take off my pants," I demanded with sudden inspiration.

Emma blinked up at me for a moment before tilting her head back down towards my crotch. Her eyes got stuck halfway, but the id made sure her hands left their grasp on my forearms to start working at my fly.

Emma seemed to have some inspiration of her own, and her lips found my left topmost ab before she had the button undone. Her lips trailed over and up as she worked my zipper down, her tongue grazing the inside curve of my pectoral as she looped her thumbs through my belt-loops and started to tug my pants down.

My jeans weren't as well-fitted as Emma's were, but she managed to get them down over my slender hips with minimal effort. I groaned in relief as my penis gained extra breathing room, Emma's lips on my nipple more of a distraction than anything else at this point.

Finally, Emma had my pants down far enough that my cock sprang free, and up between her legs. Emma shrieked when my glans tapped stiffly against her sex, pulling away from my chest to look down at the thing that had struck her.

Again, my hands on her ass were the only thing keeping her from falling over, but Emma went still almost immediately when she saw my cock between both our legs.

I would never tell anybody, but the first thing I'd done when I'd gained my body-changing powers was start experimenting with the size of my cock. I didn't think any self-respecting man would have done any different, but I still felt a flush of embarrassment whenever I thought about it.

Totally worth it, though, as evidenced by the disbelieving look Emma was giving my member.

"Hey," I said, bringing those bright eyes back up in shock, "Lets go upstairs."

Before Emma could respond I had my hands under her ass, my knees bending slightly to gain leverage as I heaved her up against my body. Soft cushions of telekinesis pressed against my back and thighs to keep the movement smooth and steady, but only for a moment before my enhanced muscles compensated for the extra weight.

Emma flailed for a moment at the sudden change in orientation, her limbs scrambling over my body for purchase. Her arms eventually found their place looped under my arms, her hands grasping against the ridges muscles of my back for a handhold. Her legs more slowly come to wrap themselves tightly around my slender hips, and I shifted my arms a bit to accommodate, my hands squeezing deeply into the fat of her bottom.

I could feel the heat of her sex against my belly, the soft flesh of her thighs pressing against my obliques, her breasts flattening themselves against my chest like hot water bottles; for a moment these sensations overwhelmed me, but the feeling of my cock standing stiffly at attention a few inches beneath Emma's ass refocused my attention. I was painfully hard, the tension of my skin trying to contain my engorged member felt like a balloon ready to pop, and the feeling of my salvation leaking against my pubic bone had my legs moving me towards the stairs on instinct.

Emma pressed herself closer as I started up the stairs, her soft warm body rubbing against me with every step. I ignored the soft moans I heard from her when I started taking them two at a time, my cock bouncing up to pat against her ass cheeks making me desperate.

My door flung itself open at my command before I reached the end of the hallway. I didn't bother to close it behind me as I charged towards my bed.

" _Emma_ ," her name ground it's way of my throat like a prayer, but I couldn't remember any other words right now. My head felt like someone had coiled a fire hose in it, my senses were on fire. I could see the chemicals clogging up my mind, driving me crazy, but I couldn't focus on anything but the girl wrapped around my body and my cock wagging helplessly in the air as I kneeled on my bed and levered Emma down onto her back.

" _Emma_!" I tried to pull my hips away, gain some space, but her legs were so tightly wrapped around me that I couldn't get the leverage to do so. I could feel her arms uncoil from around my back, see her beautiful, cherry-red face look up at me with those bright green eyes, hear her sweet trembling voice call out to me. "T-taylor w-w-wai-"

No. No more waiting. As my hands left her ass and grasped her hips I pulled myself away just enough for my cock to lift up between her legs, her thigh twitching as I slid against it, her legs sliding off of my sides and throwing themselves wide, as if to escape and welcome me in at the same time.

I threw one arm forward, my fist punching into the mattress a foot from Emma's head, my hips rocking forward with the motion. I could feel my cockhead press against some part of Emma, so soft an warm. Was it her pussy? I commanded to id to make sure it was as I brought my other arm up and dropped to my elbows.

The instant I was stable I curled a knee underneath me and thrust my hips forward, my shaft pressing in against whatever part of Emma's body it was. The feeling of sweat flowing down my back caused me to twitch in irritation. I was so overheated, I couldn't tell if the warmth the head of my penis was pressed against was her pussy or not but I was on _fire_ and I needed it so bad so _badIneededit_ -

Something gave or _slid_ or I don't know what, but I instinctively pushed further, both legs sliding out behind me over the edge of my bed as I pushed myself in another few inches. If it was wet or hot I couldn't tell, all I could feel was the sensation of my cock pushing into something _soft_. So soft, like pressing a finger into fresh dough, but more constricting.

I looked down at Emma, her hands pinching the muscles of my back, here eyes wide and lost, her face tense. I could feel her legs twitching on either side of my hips, her smooth thighs brushing against me as she hesitantly clenched them as if unsure what to do.

I was not so uncertain, dragging myself forward by my elbows and working my hips to drive into her. The sensation of pressure along my cock soothed the painful hardness I had felt before, every inch bringing added relief.

"Nggghh."

Emma seemed to be enjoying it too, her teeth were clenched in concentration and her eyes were fixed on mine like searchlights. I looked down into her eyes as I worked myself in further, earning me another grunt. Slowly, Emma's thighs pressed in on my hips, sliding down to rest in the curve between them and my quads. Her fingers raked against my back as she tensed with every advance, but my skin might as well have been canvas under her fingernails, the feeling only serving to spur me onward.

Before I knew it the pad of my groin pressed into hers, the plump flesh there smoothing out like a cushion. I drew in a shaky breath, the sensation of being fully sheathed nearly overwhelming me. There was something to be said about having a large cock, I had to admit; the sheer physical sensation of having such a large, sensitive organ was like nothing I'd experienced before, and Emma's virginal tightness only made it that much more powerful. In a way I was glad that Taylor's first time was with Emma, glad that I could give his memory this satisfaction.

But now, it was my turn.

I didn't bother asking her if she was ready before I drew myself out of her, and I didn't hesitate a moment before thrusting back in. The friction around my cock was as soft as flower petals, and despite the desperate pressure of Emma's pussy she was so wet that I slipped through it like a bar of soap clenched in the shower. The Id had already taken care of any damage I'd done, and would continue to do so, so all I needed to concentrate on was having as good a time as possible.

It took a dozen thrusts for me to find a pattern that was comfortable, but after that I set myself to hammering away into Emma with abandon, there was no more need to hold back. Emma almost sounded like she was drowning beneath me, until I let the Id help her deal with the new sensations. I didn't let it keep her eye's from crossing though, or from trembling as adrenaline raced through her body. At last her legs curled around my ass, pushing me further in not so much in encouragement but as a means of keeping herself stable. She didn't last a minute before she was peaking, and my chest burst with pride at the knowledge that I hadn't had to force it using the Id. Her legs bowed out from my hips, her elbows flared and shook in the air and her fingers dug into my skin as if she was holding on for her life. I didn't pause to appreciate the sight, too overwhelmed with my own pleasure.

I'd like to say that I lasted for hours, or that I made her cum a dozen times before I permitted myself to do the same, but the truth was that I was so eager for my own that any thoughts of doing so had been driven from my mind. I held on for maybe a minute after Emma, my thrusting growing increasingly frantic as the sensation grew, and then I knew that I didn't have to will to keep myself from cumming any longer. I needed this - deserved this - now.

Coming had never felt so good; air hissed out through my clenched teeth and the following gasp almost turned into a sob it felt so good, but instead I forced myself to look down at Emma while I nutted inside of her.

She was beautiful; lips parted, eye's shimmering, forehead furrowed and beaded with sweat. Somewhere in the more primitive parts of her mind Emma understood what was happening, and I felt her limbs tighten around me like a Boa. Before the first pulse of cum had even cleared my shaft I focused on the head of my cock and willed a small cone-shaped force-field from it to the entrance of Emma's womb. The first stream of cum filled that little pocket completely, and as I drew back my hips in tremulous pleasure the force-field contracted like a bellows, forcing my seed through to the other side. When the next load arrived it repeated the process, and the next, and the next...

Emma's moaning descended into incoherence as every pulse from my loins was forced directly into her womb. There wasn't any risk of pregnancy - I'd made sure of that weeks ago - but the feeling of heat and the conscious recognition of what was being done caused Emma to peak again, and her hold on me became even more forceful, her calves pressing in hard across my buttocks even as her thighs rocked against my hips. I kept myself pressed tight against her, enjoying the heat and softness of her body against mine as I spasmed, every shot streaming into her deepest place.

This was mine, now. All of it. I told Emma as much as I nuzzled into her neck, my orgasm finally petering off; she didn't have the wherewithal to respond, but I knew she'd understand.

I wasn't going to give her any other choice.

* * *

 **Edit: For those confused as to what's going on or why Taylor is acting/thinking in this manner, please go find the Worm V.1 CYOA and read the description of "being Taylor is suffering." This Taylor is my attempt to take that drawback seriously, which is to say that this Taylor is insane. If there are other problems with the writing, well this was my first time writing in the first person, and the first sex scene I've written, so you might expect it to be a bit clumsy.**

 **As for what powers this Taylor has, as I said in the description he has Power Manipulation, which is so versatile and OP that there really isn't any point describing each individual power he has. I find it more sensible to just describe his powers in use.  
**

 ***id is the one major power I did flesh out; Essentially it is a shard-based artificial intelligence based on a copy of Taylor's own brain that all of his thinker powers - both copied and original - are filtered through in order for him to handle them without having constant seizures. Eventually Taylor started using most of his powers through the id, as it is able to make decisions using multiple thinker shards simultaneously and is therefore far more socially and tactically adept than he is; This has not improved Taylor's sanity one bit.**


	6. Chapter 6 - Shadow Stalker

**Added explanatory notes last chapter. Enjoy and please review.**

* * *

Shadow Stalker looked down into the alleyway from the ledge three stories above with disinterest, a real scowl etched onto her face beneath the scowling visage of her mask.

Nothing.

Well, not nothing. There was a dead cat, the almost ubiquitous heaps of garbage that alleyways in this town seemed to accumulate, and a homeless man leaning his head drunkenly against the bricks and mumbling some tuneless song like a retard as he pissed on his own boots. She supposed she could nab the skeever for public urination, but she wasn't desperate enough to lower herself _that_ far yet.

She transitioned to her shadow-state as she backed off from the ledge, soundless for a moment as she let the cold of the night permeate through her entire body. She switched back when there was no more risk of noise giving away her position, a bit more awake than she'd been a second ago. It was dangerous to be in her other form for too long in winter, unless she wanted to get frostbite on her kidneys or some shit. Her pre-patrol briefing had said it was supposed to be in the low oughts tonight, apparently some storm was moving in or something. One of the things she didn't miss from her solo days was her homemade costume, and the PRT had _not_ skimped on the upgrades. She almost felt warm with all the moving she was doing, and the windchill was almost non-existent with all the padding.

She moved quickly to the back of the building, jumping off and gliding over to the next as she moved back to her designated patrol route. The PRT had her wearing a tracker in her uniform, so she couldn't afford to wander off for long. At least they didn't make her do joint patrols all the time anymore; that shit had gotten real old, real fast.

Making the occasional deviation was the only way she had to do some real work, and it was easy enough to justify to Armsmaster or her handlers. Gunshots, yelling, really anything that looked or sounded suspicious. A lot of the time she didn't even have to make it up, especially when she was on the borders of the quiet part of town like she was tonight.

She'd had a small stroke of luck tonight. She'd completely forgot what her patrol schedule had looked like for tonight. They made her plan out her patrols a month in advance and she'd only bothered to look after getting away from Clockblocker and the other children. Turns out she was very lucky, because tonight she was just on the edge of the docks, and with a new cape out and about making waves all _kinds_ of interesting shit might happen. At least she hoped it did, she'd been out for nearly two hours now and the only thing she'd seen was some probable streetwalkers and that homeless guy.

She stuck to the rooftops for another twenty minutes, keeping to her patrol route as her patience slowly wore down. She paused on another ubiquitous rooftop and looked over across the street at a gas station, watching as a beat-up truck pulled out slowly and drove back the direction she'd come. She let out a hiss of disappointment and sucked on the inside of her cheek in annoyance.

She had, what, another hour and a half left to her patrol? This shit was going nowhere. Time to shake things up.

She juggled her crossbow into the crook of her arm as she reached a hand up to activate her earpiece an-

Gunshots! One, two, now like four or five in rapid succession. She had the bearing by the third, the ice-cold wind dulling the noise but not enough to throw her. It was maybe half a mile distant, towards the port and over into the docks.

She smiled behind the grim face of her mask. Sometimes, the night was good to her.

"Control, this is Shade." She fucking _loved_ her codename.

"Control copies, Shade, send traffic." That was Gallant, sounding all professional and shit. It was a good thing he couldn't use his bullshit power over the phone.

"I'm at checkpoint seven, and I'm hearing gunfire pretty close by. Estimate two block distant. I'm breaking off from my patrol route to investigate."

So she was flubbing the distance a little bit. In this wind it was hard to tell, and they could sue her _after_ she found out whatever was happening.

"Ughh, negative Shade, hold position until otherwise notified."

Man, fuck that shit.

"Negative Control, I've got civilians fleeing in this direction. I'm on Thirteenth and Colfax now, moving towards Perry Street."

There. She'd be god damned if she let protocol get in her way tonight, she needed to blow off some fucking steam.

Gallant said something else, but she just ignored it and put her crossbow into a low carry as she jumped off the edge of the roof and down onto the streets. It would be safer - and required by protocol - for her to approach on rooftop, but she needed to get to whatever was going down quick. She could climb back up when she got closer.

She sprinted up Colfax for nearly two minutes, keeping her breath controlled and her eyes open. Her mask was absolutely fantastic, not getting in the way of her breathing like her old one had and with the camera feed and HUD she didn't need to worry about it jostling around and obstructing her vision. There was more gunfire as she was moving, not a whole lot but enough for her to have a good idea of where to go.

She paused at the intersection with Perry Street, popping her head around the corner for a quick peek before rounding it and crossing the street. There wasn't a single person in sight, which was a good sign for her - and a bad one for whoever had got caught up in that gunfire. She hadn't heard any shots for nearly half a minute, so she picked up the pace and moved between one of the dilapidated row-homes and slowed down to catch her breath in the pothole-strewn alleyway behind.

Perry Street was an old residential neighborhood - like real old. These rowhomes had been here since the forties or something, she'd heard once. Back when the town was actually worth a damn and the warehouse people needed to live close to the docks. Now it was a nearly abandoned ghetto right on the edge of the docks, not really contested territory but near the ragged edge of ABB turf and the places the police still bothered to go. She couldn't see a single building that didn't have boarded-up windows, and all the street signs were tagged up with neon-colored paint.

There was another gunshot, closer this time and a lot louder than the others. Deeper than the others too, sounded like a shotgun. She jogged down the alley towards the sound of the guns, close now and feeling alive and alert. She kept her head on a swivel and her crossbow up as she checked every shadow.

The alleyway spilled out onto an equally derelict road, and she bounded across with a quick check both ways. She kept close to the empty storefronts there, finally coming out into what looked like a small parking lot, dimly lit by a few streetlamps. There was a single car parked slant-ways next to the lit entrance of the warehouse, piles of dirty-looking snow running like a border against the dirty brick on either side. It hadn't snowed in the Bay for over a week, so she got a look at the dead grass peeking out from the patchy ice covering the verge.

And... that was a body.

Maybe a corpse? Suddenly her heart was beating faster, and it had nothing to do with the running.

Doubling back she quickly went around the back of the empty shops and lo-and-behold, there was yet another dark alley that ran right up to the side of the warehouse. About two-thirds of the way down the alley she found a caged fire escape ladder on one of the shops. That would have to do for reconnaissance.

She threw her crossbow over her shoulder, adjusting the straps so that the stock wouldn't knock into the back of her head while she climbed. She had to watch that the limbs didn't get caught up in the gaps of the steel cage, but she managed to make it up the three-story building quick enough. The roofs were segmented on these old buildings, so she had to do a bit of climbing and watched her step as she made her way towards the roof closest to the warehouse.

The warehouse was an older building, just like the rest of the neighborhood. Tall windows made up most of the wall halfway up, most of them either painted black on the inside to keep people from peering in or missing entirely. The roof was slightly higher than the one she was on now, but she could see rows of saw-tooth skylights. It would almost look classy if it wasn't tagged with every gang symbol in Brockton bay. She could see Merchant tags buried underneath the drooping Kanji the ABB sometimes used, and maybe the tips of one of two swastikas that had been covered up. Shit, there was even a faded Fleur-de-lis that rose just far enough up the wall that you couldn't easily get at it. What a dump.

She unshipped her crossbow and flipped up the little three-times scoped mounted on the side. It sprang in to place with a sharp click, and she brought the stock up into her shoulder as she peered through it.

Lets see, nope the body near the entrance was still breathing, guy was even moving a little bit so she didn't need to call this in _just_ yet. She tried to get an angle to see through one of the broken windows but there wasn't one low enough for her to look down.

Her eye jumped away from the scope when she heard another gunshot, several more actually, and then what sounded like a scream. Oooh shit, tonight was her lucky night.

She drew back the string of her crossbow one-handed as she grinned in excitement, then reached down under her cloak for the equipment she needed. First was the climbing 'rope,' actually a pencil-thin cable of synthetics nearly as strong as steel. PRT had the best goodies. It clipped to the front of her bow, and the spool clicked softly like a fishing reel as she drew the lanyard back and into a recess beneath the flight groove. Then she reached back and drew one of the special-purpose bolts from her quiver. The head on these babies had been replaced by a gumdrop-shaped piece of super adhesive; Some really strong tinker-made shit that Armsmaster had said would support a firetruck.

There was a loop at the base of the arrow where the lanyard for the rope clipped on, when she'd attached it she set it into the flight groove and peeled the plastic off the head. This stuff was air-activated so she took care that it didn't touch any part of the crossbow as she brought it up to her shoulder and aimed for the warehouse wall.

Wind wasn't too bad here, and it was maybe fifteen feet away so she wasn't surprised when the bolt stuck just about where she'd wanted, sticking ramrod straight from the brick near the top of the building. She waited a few seconds and then gave the rope a few tugs to make sure.

Good, nice and sturdy.

The next part was going to be a little tricky. There was maybe four feet of solid brick from the corner of the building to the first window, she'd need to land on it unless she wanted to go crashing through like some kind of retard. Not that it would hurt her, if she switched to her shadow-state, but then she would have ruined the element of surprise, and that wasn't her style. She judged the jump while she unclipped the rope from her crossbow and threw it back over her shoulder. Judging it to be good, she gripped the lanyard firmly and jumped.

 _Perfect_.

The felt bottoms of her boots muffled the noise of her contact with the brick wall, almost perfectly between the corner and the window. She didn't stop as she began climbing up, hand-over-hand up the side of the building. She made sure to avoid the bolt when she heaved herself over the ledge, bringing her crossbow up to scan the rooftop as she crouched at the edge. Nothing.

She decided to switch to her shadow-state as she moved over towards the nearest skylight. Shit, the glass was painted over here too, and none of the panes were missing.

She checked for a latch or a door or something and found one that had been fucking _welded_ shut. Goddamnit!

She wasn't hearing any more noise inside the warehouse, so she took a moment to look around to see if any of the other skylights had an easy way in. She didn't want to have to break glass on the roof in order to get in. This was starting to look like a shitshow.

She rounded to the back of the last skylight in a hurry, mind starting to go through scenarios of how she might get inside quietly.

She didn't notice the man standing next to the exhaust pipe until he moved slightly.

Her crossbow came up in an instant and she almost squeezed off a shot, but something held her back. Maybe it was surprise, she'd never been quick on the trigger, always kept her head. Her heart was racing as the figure steeped out of the shadows.

Tall. That was the first thing she noticed. The second thing was the _mask_. Holy fuck, it looked so freaky. Like an alien or some shit, the dark shapes on the face of it shifting around like the blobs in a lava-lamp. His hands were tucked deep into the pockets of his brown trenchcoat, calm as you please as he stared her down.

It was the Cape. The new one, from the briefing.

In the back of her mind she knew this was what she was hoping for tonight. Just a little excitement. Well she was feeling like an idiot now, running off on her own into the night chasing after gunfire. What the fuck had she been thinking?

"Shadow Stalker."

The Capes voice broke her out of her reverie. Growl was more like it, fuck it was deep. Armsmaster had the deepest voice she'd ever heard, and this guy's sounded deeper than his. Or maybe it was just the blood rushing through her ears.

"Who are you?" She demanded. "What are you doing here?"

She needed to gain control of this situation. Get him talking.

She still kept her crossbow trained on him as he tilted his head slightly, as if confused by her question, then answered.

"Rorschach." Well, answered her first question. He nodded his head down to his left and answered the second.

"Investigating."

She hadn't noticed until he'd pointed it out, but this side of the skylight was open. Dim light flooded out from inside, fuck how had she missed that.

"ABB storehouse. Probably human trafficking, no-one here tonight." He explained, his tone almost sounding disappointed.

She licked her lips, suddenly realizing her mouth was dry. She lowered her crossbow slowly; she'd keep it down so long as he kept his hands in his pockets.

She took a few half-steps forward, taking her eyes off of the Cape for just a moment to look down into the warehouse.

Ho-lee-fuck.

There were some wooden crates up against the walls of the warehouse, but otherwise the floor was clear except for the bodies she could see laid out on the concrete. Maybe ten in all, some of them shifting sluggishly, others deathly still, with a very large puddle of blood underneath the head of one poor bastard whose legs were visibly twitching. She could hear the soft weeping of one man who was curled up into the fetal position cradling his arm near a poker table that had been flipped on it's side, chairs and broken glass scattered around him.

She turned her head slowly to look back at the Cape - Rorschach. He stood there calmly, his posture straight, hands still tucked into his pockets. At her look he tilted his head again, up and a little to the left, almost like he was proud. Like he was showing off a fresh kill and was waiting for her approval.

She swallowed thickly, very glad that her costume concealed it as she stepped back from the skylight. Technically she should retreat as quickly as possible and call in for reinforcements, but he was just standing there _looking_ at her, waiting for her to say something. Or at least she thought he was looking at her, it was hard to tell with the freaky featureless mask.

"Good work." She blurted out. Shit, why did she say that? She felt heat run up her neck and her cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Rorschach was quiet for a moment, almost seeming to enjoy her discomfort before finally answering, "Thank you."

Sophia licked her lips again, a sudden gust of wind driving into her and helping refocus her mind.

"I'm gonna need to call this in. If what you say is true those gangbangers are gonna end up in jail." Yeah, that sounded confident and shit. And she did need to call this in.

Rorschach just snorted, leaning back against the exhaust pipe, seemingly unbothered by the cold.

"On what charges? Getting beat up in an old warehouse? They'll be back out come tomorrow. Least they won't be doing much with broken arms."

Damn, she liked the sound of that. And he was probably right. There might be some evidence down there if this really was an ABB warehouse - it probably was - but those bangers were probably just street muscle. There would be more of a case charging the Cape who'd attacked them with assault. And in this fucked up town that was probably what _would_ happen, it was the whole reason she was in the PRT to begin with.

"Listen, I need to call this in." Shit, she'd said that already hadn't she? "You gonna stick around to give a statement?"

Rorschach just shook his head. Sophia felt just a little bit disappointed, though she hadn't really expected any different.

Still, if that was the way it was gonna be...

"Listen, from what I've heard you're pretty new, so let me give you some advice; Independents don't last too long in this city for a reason. I tried to do it for a while, but eventually you catch the wrong kind of attention."

His demeanor didn't change any while she made her little speech, and she started feeling like a fool before she even finished.

"What I'm saying is that stuff like this can get you on someones shitlist pretty quick. New capes either get rolled into one of the gangs or get dead if they make waves."

Rorschach didn't seem impressed.

"I can't just sit back and do nothing." He answered. She could respect that sentiment, in fact she _did_ respect it.

"Still, I appreciate the advice." Rorschach leaned away from the exhaust pipe and turned lazily, half of his mask looking back towards her and his hands still in his pockets. Guess he was just gonna... walk away?

"See you around, Shadow Stalker."

He walked behind the exhaust fan, and as soon as he was out of her direct line of sight the crunch of ice from his footfalls stopped. For a moment she just stood there looking, not totally understanding what had just happened. The pipe was maybe eight feet tall and five feet around, and she could see the roof around both sides from where she was. Was he just fucking standing there behind it waiting for her to go away?

Disbelievingly she crept up to the pipe, crossbow suddenly feeling a bit more real in her hands. As she rounded on it she kept waiting to see him, or some part of him, but then she was on the other side, looking around in shock. Nothing, he was gone.

She needed to call this in.


	7. Chapter 7 - Purity

Kayden was beginning to get a bit nervous.

Normally, she didn't come out at night in her Cape persona. For one, her powers were weaker at night, but more importantly her power did not lend itself to stealth even during the day; at night there was no chance at all of going unnoticed, at least if she went anywhere outdoors and public. Even here on the roof of an office building she felt exposed. It was bitingly cold out, and even with her sweater and coat she would've been shivering if not for the warm glow of her power; The ice-cold steel of the ductwork she was sitting on probably didn't help either, but she'd been on her feet all day at work and couldn't risk the intensity it would take to hover in place like she usually did.

There were really only a few tall buildings in downtown Brockton Bay, and on a Friday they were as dark as tombstones. Most of them were distant enough that if anyone did see her they'd just assume she was a light-fixture or something. At least, that's what she'd been telling herself for the twenty minutes she'd been up here.

Where the hell _was_ he?

Her relationship with Rorschach was... strange. Granted, every other cape she'd ever worked with had been in the Empire, so she didn't have much to compare to, but she couldn't help but feel a little unsettled by the masked hero. Oh, she was glad to finally have met another hero willing to work with her - even if he was a new trigger - but there was just something off about the man. Maybe it was his voice, or the way he talked. Maybe it was how violent he was; the night she'd met him had supposedly been his first night as a cape, and he'd been in the midst or beating five ABB street toughs unconscious.

She'd worked with plenty of violent men before - she was certainly capable of violence herself - but there was something... familiar in the energy he'd displayed attacking them. Hookwolf was like that, a kind of manic glee to be in amongst the fray. She'd yet to see his face, but Rorschach reminded her of that, just a bit. She could still remember the crackling of bone from that night.

When she recognized the crunching of ice and gravel as footsteps she shot up from her improvised seat in shock. There he was, stepping now into the dim light cast off by her power. Well, that settled it; he could teleport. There was only one set of stairs that led onto this roof, and it was in the opposite direction that Rorschach was coming from. She'd been wondering about that, and this relationship was too new to risk with nosy questions like that.

"Purity," He said in greeting, voice rough and deep like always, "you're looking nice."

For a moment she just stared at him in confusion at the compliment. What did he...

Oh _crap_!

Her power flared with the speed of though, putting the duct-work behind her into sharp relief as a second sun bloomed on the roof of Graine Technologies Inc. Rorschach didn't so much as flinch. She immediately began adjusting it to the point where she knew he couldn't see her face through the glow. Dammit, he'd seen her _face_! How could she be so reckless?! Scenarios immediately began running through her mind; she'd have to ensure his silence. Threaten him maybe? She might have to-

"Purity, I play by the rules. You have nothing to worry about." He said, interpreting her reaction.

She considered his words, gauging the truthfulness of them. Rorschach had been honest with her for the two weeks they'd been collaborating, but could she take the risk? She had to protect Aster.

"You will tell no one, swear it now." She demanded, saying it in such a way that 'or else' was implied; not everything she'd gotten from Max had been poisoned.

Rorschach dipped his head in obeisance, the shadow from the brim of his hat gliding over his mask like a wave coming to shore. "I swear it. I don't break faith with allies."

Well, OK. That was good to hear. Her thundering heart started to slow down, and she took care to reduce the glare from her power just a tad, conscious that she may have just given away their position. They'd need to make this quick.

"Was there anything at the warehouse?" She demanded, mentally flinching when her tone came out more combative than she intended.

Rorschach rolled his shoulders easily, apparently not offended by her tone, both hands stuffed into his pockets like always. "No," He finally answered, "couple of thugs, looks like they moved them a few days ago."

Damn, she'd been too slow. She'd only found out about that warehouse three nights ago, after a raid on a drug den in the ghetto. She hadn't pulled the info from anyone directly affiliated with the ABB, just some lowlife with five coats and track marks on the tops of his hands. Was the ABB always so quick on the uptake, or had it just been bad luck?

"Not your fault," Rorschach said, again interpreting her mood. "Might have picked up a lead; have to investigate further."

She tensed as he slowly pulled one of his hands from his pockets, carefully pinching a cellphone between index finger and thumb. He crouched down to set it on the ice-crusted gravel of the rooftop, backing away as soon as he had done so.

"Contact you when I find something, drop point is still the same."

Without waiting for a response he turned and walked back the way he'd come, which was the far end of the rooftop with no way down. For a moment she considered waiting around to see if he really could teleport, but when she stood back up from retrieving the burner he was already gone.

The cellphone felt light and cheap in her hands. She considered crushing it, then shook her head and dismissed the notion. If she ever decided she really needed to deal with Rorschach she'd need a way to set up a meeting.

For a moment she just stared off into thin air, still not happy about him seeing her face. Maybe he hadn't seen too much? And for only a second too, so he'd probably forget.

For now, she just wanted to get home to her baby girl.


End file.
